


Inches apart, even closer at heart

by EclecticInkling



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Oneshot, Post-Canon, iwaoi reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 10:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13634544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticInkling/pseuds/EclecticInkling
Summary: All his thoughts and words disappear entirely in the overwhelming surprise of seeing that tanned skin and dark hair and eyes so familiar it almost breaks his heart.Iwaizumi Hajime is standing before him for the first time in almost four years, and Tooru doesn’t know what to say.





	Inches apart, even closer at heart

**Author's Note:**

> An old work, originally written for the Haikyuu Writer's zine
> 
> Title taken from Sleeping At Last's "West"

It happens in a convenience store of all places, right there amongst the shelves of packaged bread and colorful bags of chips.

Tooru peruses his options with bleary eyes. He’s exhausted. A long day at work, followed by a not quite as long but nearly just as tiring train ride from Tokyo to Miyagi have left him drained of energy and in desperate need of some sort of sustenance. Anything to keep him awake long enough to make the cold trek from the convenience store by the train station all the way to his parent’s house.

He should have stayed at home, honestly. Back at his apartment in Tokyo with his blankets and tea and _Ultraman_ DVDs to ward off the winter chill. Instead he’s back in Miyagi, braving the wind and the snow and his own exhaustion just for a short, weekend visit with his parents. Mostly because he knows his mom would kill him if he missed their new years celebrations without a good excuse. And Tooru doesn’t have one.

Sighing, he reaches for one of the packages of bread, not really caring or paying attention to which one he’s reaching for until he feels his hand collide with something that definitely isn’t plastic or bread, but flesh and blood. Another hand, reaching for the same area Tooru had been.

Tooru snatches his hand back and turns to apologize to the other person, a sheepish smile plastered across his face and half-hearted excuses already hanging off his tongue. But that all fails him when he finally looks at the other man. All his thoughts and words disappear entirely in the overwhelming surprise of seeing that tanned skin and dark hair and eyes so familiar it almost breaks his heart.

Iwaizumi Hajime is standing before him for the first time in almost four years, and Tooru doesn’t know what to say.

“Haji—” he chokes out, stops, corrects himself, because it’s not like he has any right to that sort of closeness anymore. “Iwaizumi-san.”

Something flashes over Hajime’s face, a subtle drop in the muscles that almost looks like disappointment. But then it’s gone again in an instant, so maybe Tooru’s just deluding himself. “That sounds weird coming from your mouth,” Hajime says. “At least drop the honorific. We know each other too well for that.”

“Alright.”

They stand silent after that. Awkward and unsure, at least on Tooru’s part. It’s strange seeing Hajime like this— older and more mature, grown into his broad shoulders and strong jaw as if his gangly teenage years had never even existed. There’s no trace of uncertainty in his posture or gestures. Not like when Tooru had last seen him, back when they had left Seijou for their different universities. Time has been good to him in that sense. Tooru hopes the same can be said for him.

“Visiting family?” he asks in a careful tone, picking at the hem of his pea coat’s sleeve.

Hajime nods. “You?” he asks in turn, and Tooru nods as well.

He doesn’t elaborate like he normally might, but neither does Hajime. It’s as if they don’t know what to say to one another. What is still permissible and what is off-limits. What they’re allowed to ask about the lives they’re no longer a part of. Which is a little bit silly, as far as Tooru is concerned, because it’s not like they had some messy falling out or big fight or anything that made them stop talking. It was time. Time and distance and constantly busy schedules that always seemed to conflict. Just little circumstances that wore away at their friendship bit by bit until it was almost nonexistent, like a river over land. The distance between them feels like a canyon now, one that Tooru wants to cross but can’t figure out how.

Hajime rubs the back of his neck, brushing over the dark hair that’s been trimmed shorter than Tooru recalls it ever being. One corner of his mouth pulls up into a half-smile as he glances back at Tooru with his dark eyes. “This is a bit strange, isn’t it?” he says with a soft laugh. “I mean, it’s not like we’re strangers or anything.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tooru jokes while gesturing at Hajime with a single hand. “I almost didn’t recognize you with how much you’ve changed. Where’d my Iwa-chan go?”

Hajime laughs, loud and unrestrained, and Tooru feels like a giant weight’s been lifted from his chest. He breathes in deep and chances a little smile in Hajime’s direction, which Hajime returns with twice the brightness. He beams at Tooru and gently taps his fist against Tooru’s arm, just like when they were teenagers, fooling around without a care in the world.

“It’s good to see you again, Shittykawa,” he says. There’s warmth behind the old nickname, like sunshine breaking through the clouds, and Tooru’s heart feels close to bursting with how much happiness fills his chest. He’d almost forgotten what that name sounded like coming from Hajime’s lips.

“It’s good to see you too, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime grins at him, and suddenly it’s like a dam has broken and flooded the gap that had been between them. Like they’d never grown apart in the first place.

They grab their food and head to the counter to pay, chattering all the while. Hajime’s more talkative now than he was as a teenager. Or maybe he just has more to say, with nearly four years worth of memories to catch Tooru up on. He tells Tooru of his apartment just outside of Tokyo, and his job as a physical therapist at a private clinic on the skirts of the city, and of the small, terrier puppy he’s recently adopted and who is in his neighbor’s care for the weekend while he’s in Miyagi.

“She’s a little spoiled and territorial,” he says to Tooru as they walk out of the store and into the cold, “but she’s just too cute to get mad at for long. A little like someone else I know.”

“I am neither spoiled nor territorial,” Tooru protests, but feels his cheeks heat up at the implication in Hajime’s words. He’s grateful for the large, fluffy scarf he’s wearing that he can duck his face into, hiding his flushed cheeks from view. Not that it keeps Hajime from smirking knowingly at him. Hajime’s always known Tooru too well for Tooru to hide anything from him.

“You are,” Hajime insists. He bumps Tooru’s shoulder with his own and smiles. “But that’s ok. I’ve kind of missed it.”

“Liar.”

“No really. I have.” He stops in his tracks and turns to face Tooru, expression becoming so serious that it almost leaves Tooru feeling worried. He stretches out a gloved hand, then seems to think better of it and shoves it in his coat pocket, glancing at the ground in a sudden fit of bashfulness. Tooru’s never seen him be bashful before. Not like this. “I’ve missed you a lot, you know,” Hajime says in a soft voice. His cheeks are red, and Tooru can’t tell if it’s from the cold or from embarrassment, but maybe it doesn’t matter either way.

“I have too,” Tooru confesses, ducking his head further into his scarf and averting his eyes.

They’ve never been ones for sentimentality or heartfelt admissions, and maybe that was their problem all along. Maybe it was their inability to admit to each other just how much the distance hurt. Just how lonely Hajime’s absence during those years had made him. And even now, the confession is strange. The words feel weird in his mouth, heavy and sticky and difficult to force off his tongue. But he doesn’t regret saying it. Doesn’t regret finally voicing the thought that’s followed him all this time.

He wonders if Hajime maybe feels the same.

There’s a soft pressure on top his head, almost feather-light against his windswept hair, and Tooru glances up to see Hajime smiling and brushing some snow from his hair, his shoulder, then reaching down to take hold of Tooru’s hand. “Have dinner with me,” Hajime says to him. “Or lunch. Just something before we both leave Miyagi. I’ll take anything.”

He takes Tooru’s other hand, holds them both in his firm grip, and stares at Tooru with dark, insistent eyes. There’s a new intensity in his face, a fervor Tooru’s not used to seeing towards anything outside the volleyball court, let alone focused on Tooru himself. It ties his stomach in knots for some reason, but in a pleasant way. Different from what he’s used to, but not bad. Not unwanted. Just a new dimension to their interactions. A start to something Tooru thinks he might like to know and explore even more.

“Ok,” he answers Hajime, and gives his hands a gentle squeeze. “Ok, let’s have dinner.”


End file.
